


Salt Water Heart

by emolee96



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, M/M, Most of the pranks borrowed from Looking for Alaska, So Éponine Cosette and Musichetta have the greatest best frienship ever and it's perfect, also Eponine and Cosette and Courfeyrac, but just a bit because E/R, but mostly it's gonna be fluff, that's all I really write, though I did come up with some of them myself, Éponine/Combeferre is my new OTP ok?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:20:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emolee96/pseuds/emolee96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which cookies say a lot about personalities, there are copious amounts of fluff, and les amis plan pranks while also fighting for social justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a person's favorite cookie says a lot about their personality

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what to say here but I feel like I should say something so this is really my first Les Mis fic ever, but I like it and I've been working on it for a while, so enjoy, I guess!

Éponine Thénardier took a deep breath and looked around. Tall, red brick buildings rose up all around her, with high windows and the occasional balcony. Sunlight flickered through the leaves of trees that looked like they were about two hundred year old, and given the history of the school, it wouldn’t have surprised her if they actually were. Voices echoed around the circle (which didn’t look like a circle to her, more like an octagon, or even a slightly rounded square, but if that’s what everyone here called it, she was determined to do the same. She was going to make this work if it killed her.).

“Come on, then, hurry up, other people are trying to get through here!” she heard someone say, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the accent was definitely Irish. She turned around, trying to find the speaker. Finally, she did, a boy only a few inches taller than herself, with sparkling blue eyes, and curly black hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in at least a week.

“I’m sorry,” Éponine said, “It’s just that it’s my first day, and I’m not quite sure where to go. This place is huge.”

“Don’t worry about it!” the boy laughed. “I’m Courfyerac, by the way,” he stuck out his hand. “and you are?”

“Éponine,” she smiled and shook his hand.

“Now, Éponine,” Courfeyrac said thoughtfully, “You’re here by yourself, no? And you can’t possibly carry all of those bags by yourself. So I’ll tell you what. I’m going to help you. How’s that sound?”

“Oh, that would be great,” she said, “Thank you so much.

“Of couse. I am here to help. What rrom are you in?”

Éponine checked the letter she had gotten in the mail the week before that had listed her classes, room assignments, and all the books she would need. “221 Baker Hall,” she told him.

“Wonderful. You’re with Cosette then. I’ll show you were it it.”

Between the two of them, Éponine and Courfeyrac managed to get all her things to her room in one trip, and when they finally got there, they both collapsed on the floor, exhausted.

“Thank you,” Éponine said.

“Of course, not a problem,” Courfeyrac told her. “You looked like you needed the help. Do you want to hear a story? I’ve got a great story, and I’ve been dying to tell someone all day, and you look like the kind of person that would actually think it was funny.”

“Sure,” Éponine said. She began to unpack one of her suitcases. This Cosette figure Courfeyrac had mentioned hadn’t arrived yet, so Éponine made sure to keep her things on one side of the room.

“So I moved in yesterday, right?” Courfeyrac said. He leaned back against her bed. Éponine nodded in agreement, because, while she had no reason to believe this was the truth, she had no reason to believe it was a lie, and either way, Courfeyrac seemed like the type who would tell good stories. “Anyway, my new roommate moed in this morning – his name’s Marius Pontmercy, like, what kind of a ridiculous name is that?”

“Says the one who goes by Courfeyrac,” Éponine snorted.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, go on,” Éponine said, laughing quietly to herself.

“So, Monsieur Ridiculous Pretentious Name comes in, and I’m sitting on my bed watching Doctor Who, because, like I said, got here yesterday, and unpacking meant I missed Asylum of the Daleks last night. But anyway, he comes in, and I say, ‘Oh, are you the one that’s been cursed to have to share a room with me?’ because my last roommate didn’t even last the whole year, and do you want to know what he says?”

“What?”

At this point, Courfeyrac, already knowing the puncline of the joke, could barely say the next words. “He says, and I quote, ‘I have come to sleep with you.’ I’m not even kidding.”

“So what did you say?”

“I said, ‘Oh, that’s lovely, but I already sort of have a boyfriend, and I’m not quite sure how he feels about that kind of thing.’”

Éponine burst out laughing. “You didn’t!”

“I did,” Courfeyrac nodded, “And then he turned bright red, dropped all his things on the floor, and ran out. I haven’t seen him since.”

“And who are you terrorizing now, Monsieur de Courfeyrac?” came a voice from the doorway.

“Ah, Cosette, mon ami,” Courfeyrac stood up to hug the girl. “Éponine, this is Cosette. Cosette, Éponine. Cosette and I make beautiful cookies together, and I don’t mean anything sexual by that. We actually make cookies together. Well, she makes them, I eat them. She’s also the only one who is allowed to called me Monsieur de Courfeyrac. It’s plain Courfeyrac to everyone else, and don’t you forget it for a second.”

Cosette rolled her eyes. “Really, Courf?” she said sarcastically, “Has he told you anything terrible about me yet?”

“He hasn’t had a chance,” Éponine laughed, “He was too caught up in the fact that his new roommate wants to sleep with him.”

Cosette laughed. “Oh, you have to tell me that story now!” she insisted. So Courfeyrac did.

Cosette was beautiful, Éponine thought, in the same way that the Mona Lisa was beautiful. She had long, curly blonde hair and big brown eyes, and she was wearing a light pink polka-dotted sundress. She seemed like the type of girl Éponine should have hated on sight simply because she was pretty, but she just couldn’t make herself do it.

“What’s your favorite kind of cookie?” Cosette asked Éponine.

“Oh,” Éponine wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. This was a loaded question. A person’s favorite cookie said a lot about their personality. “I never really thought about it before, I guess,” she admitted.

“Well, think about it,” Cosette told her. She turned back to Courfeyrac, “Now, Monsieur de Courfeyrac, you should probably go terrorize your new roommate some more, if he isn’t still hiding. Éponine and I are going to have girl talk now, and we all know you don’t want to be here for that.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes widened in fear and he sprinted out of the room before any of them could say another word. The two girls burst out laughing, and Éponine suddenly got the feeling that she was going to like it here.


	2. in which les amis de l'abc get their name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a chorus of hellos from everyone in the group and then Musichetta patted the ground next to her. "Come sit," she invited, "We're the sane corner. Well, relatively sane, anyway." Éponine laughed and sat down. Courfeyrac, seeing that she had been properly welcomed, took his usual seat between Enjolras and Cosette, the latter of whom was unabashedly flirting with Marius, who had absolutely no idea what was happening to him or what to do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is up sooner than I expected to be able to get it here, 3 will be up by Friday or so, depending.

"I'm going to fail French," Éponine said miserably. She buried her face int he pillow.

"Oh, nonsense," Cosette told her, "YOu're not going to fail anything. It's only your first day of class, give it a chance at least."

"I can't give it a chance when I can't understand a word the teacher is saying," Époning said mournfully.

"Well, just give it a few more days," Cosette reasoned. "You'll get it eventaully. And you won't fail, not if we have anything to do with it. You're good at math, right?"

"You could say that, but I don't know what that has to do with my impending demise," Éponine sat up and looked at Cosette, "Math and French ahve absolutely nothing to do with each other.

"I am going to fail French," Courfeyrac announced. He walked into their room and sat down on teh end of Éponine's bed.

"Oh, not you too," Cosette sighed and rolled her eyes. "Get your books packed. I'll call the others. It's time go to McDonald's." She said this in a much more serious tone than one would expect a trip to the world's largest fast-food chain to require. She picked up her phone and walked out into the hallway.

"Exactly how many others are there?" Éponine asked Courfeyrac. She had skipped dinner the night before to finish unpacking, and she ahd been too nervous to eat breakfast that morning, so she hadn't gotten a chance to meet many other people yet.

"Well," Courfeyrac counted on his fingers, "There's me, Enjolras - he's an interesting one, wait 'til you meet him - uh, Grantaire, Combeferre, Bahorel, Feuilly, Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, new roommate Marius Pontmercy, Cosette, and Jehan. You met Jehan, he told me."

"Yeah, I did," Éponine said. She'd come across the little poet in her literature class. He'd offered to braid her hair into some intricate style, and she had planned to take him up on the offer, but they'd caught the teacher scowling at them, so he settled for writing haikus in the margins of his notbeooks and pushing it over for Éponine to read when the teacher wasn't looking. Some of her favorites had been "I hate this class/The teacher is oppressive/Who stole his happy?" and "This is a haiku/I need seven syllables/Refrigerator." She was telling this to Courfeyrac, who laughed appreciatvely and said, "Yes, that sounds like our Jehan, when Cosette walked back in.

"I just talked to Comebeffere," she announced. Courfeyrac stifled a laughed and Éponine looked at him, but he just shrugged like it was nothing, "Everyone is already in his room complaining about one of their classes, and he says Enjolras is about to explode from claustrophobia, so McDonald's in fifteen," she turned to Courfeyrac, "You still have your car, right?"

"I do, surprisingly enough," he said.

"Good. Then you're driving. I refuse to go anywhere near Bossuet's death trap unless absolutely necessary. Éponine, get your bag."

Five minutes later, all three were squeezed into the fron seat of Courfeyrac's car (a black, '67 Chevy Impala, it was gorgeous) on their way to the McDonald's not far from the school. They got there in what Courfeyrac announced was reecord time, seven and a half minutes, although Éponine hadn't noticed anything timing their journey, so she figured that he may have been stretching the truth a little bit.

Courfeyrac walked up to a rather large group sitting on the front lawn of the restaurant, two trays piled high with french fries in the center of their circle. "We have arrived!" he declared, "Celebration may now commence!"

"Very funny, Courfeyrac," one of them, a blonde in a bright red t-shirt, said sarcastically, "You're late."

"Ah, but I had to convince my new friend to come along. You all know Cosette," he said, pointing to the blonde. She smileda t him and shook her head, laughing. "But you have yet to meet Éponine. 'Ponine, ma cheri, come meet everyone." he drew her forward and slipped an arm around her shoulder. "The sarcastic one bent on changing the world and never getting anything less than an A is Enjolras. then there's Combeferre, Musichetta, Joly, Bossuet, Jehan, Bahorel, Feuilly, Grantaire- but call him R, everyone does - new roommate Marius, though I don't know how he got here, because I certainly didn't bring him, and Cosette, of course."

"Hello," Éponine said shyly. "It's nice to meet you all."

There was a chorus of hellos from everyone in the group and then Musichetta patted the ground next to her. "Come sit," she invited, "We're the sane corner. Well, relatively sane, anyway." Éponine laughed and sat down. Courfeyrac, seeing that she had been properly welcomed, took his usual seat between Enjolras and Cosette, the latter of whom was unabashedly flirting with Marius.

"Poor kid," Éponine heard Combeferre mutter on the other side of her, "Look at him, he's clueless. Got no idea what to do next." Éponine laughed, but it was true. Marius was bright red, and he looked terrified.

"Oh, be nice," Musichetta said to him, her voice lilting with an accent Éponine couldn't quite place.

"I'm being perfectly nice!" Combeferre defended himself, "I'm feeling sorry for him!" His words were lost on Musichetta, however, as she had already turned to comfort Joly, who had suddenly become concerned that we was going to contract malaria and die from a mosquito bite he’d just received. Combeferre turned to Éponine. “I’m Comveferre, by the way. Alec Combeferre, not that any of us every go by our first names, but I’m guessing you already picked that up, didn’t you?”

Éponine smiled. “Doesn’t hurt to hear it again,” she shrugged. “I’ve met so many new people, I can’t keep half of it straight. Between this and classes there’s just so much to remember, I don’t know how I’m going to do all of it.”

“It gets easier,” Comveferre assured her. He adjusted his glasses. “Say, you’re in Valjean’s French, right? Did you have any idea what was going on today?”

Éponine told him that no, she didn’t, and while Combeferre was able to offer little in the way of clarification, it was nice to have someone to commiserate with. They decided to stay after the next day to ask more questions, because they both agreed those sorts of things were much less awkward when you had someone else with you.

“Okay, you all have had enough studying time for one day,” Enjolras announced. “Time to get to the more important matters.”

“But Enjy, what could possibly be more important than studying?” Grantaire said sarcastically. From what Éponine overheard, sarcasm seemed to be his main mode of communication.

Enjolras fixed Grantaire with a glare and then moved on. “I think you all know why we’re really here,” he continued, “And that our main purpose is not studying.”

“I honestly thought I was here to get someone to help me with my French homework,” Éponine muttered to Musichetta, who laughed.

Enjolras gave them the same look he had just given Grantaire. He looked extremely frustrated. Éponine couldn’t imagine why. Grantaire had pulled out a sketchbook and began to draw something – Enjolras, perhaps? – Éponine couldn’t tell from where she was sitting.

“”I thought we agreed we weren’t doing this today, Enjolras,” Combeferre sighed.”

“But ‘Ferre, the protest needs to be planned!” Enjolras protested, “These things don’t just happen overnight, you know. Actual work is involved.”

Courfeyrac and Combeferre looked at each other for a second, arguing silently. “I’ll handle it” Courfeyrac mouted, and Combeferre nodded.

“The protest will be planned with or without us, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac reasoned. “We’re just attending this time, remember?”

“But we need posters, and flyers, and…” Enjolras trailed off, thinking, his eyes glowing. “We need time!”

“We have six weeks,” Courfeyrac told him, “And Grantaire can handle the posters, can’t you, R?”

“Shh!” Grantaire held up his hand. “I’m sketching. Don’t you dare move, Apollo, because the light is perfect, and I will draw you if it is the last thing I do.”

“Do you even care about this at all?” Enjolras sighed, but he didn’t move. “And don’t call me Apollo, I’m not a god.”

“Yeah, sure whatever, Apollo,” Grantaire brushed him off with another flick of his charcoal-covered hand. He tried his best to hide it, but Éponine could tell that he had been hurt by Enjolras’ comment.

“Grantaire, stop flirting with Enjolras, please,” Courfeyrac scholded with a laugh, although whether or not he was kidding, Éponine couldn’t tell. “More important matters. We need a name. We never agreed on one last year.”

“And we are not going with any of your suggestions, Courfeyrac, so don’t even bother bringing them up,” Enjolras said firmly.

“So basically, this little group of our plays at fighting for social justice,” Musichetta explained to Éponine, “And we occasionally pull pranks. But all in the name of the cause. And we need to name ourselves, but none of us can really agree on anything.”

“Okay,” Éponine nodded thoughtfully. “I’m good at naming. Let me think for a minute. French would probably be funny, since most of us are so bad at it,” she mused, flipping through her textbook for inspiration, until, finally, she found something. “Got it!” she announced. The entire group turned to look at her. “Okay, so abaissé, for all intents and purposes of this discussion, means abased, right? Like the poor, the people that don’t get a chance in life, all that. And it also sounds like a, b, c in the French alphabet. So ‘Les Amis de l’ABC’ but instead of the word spelled out, it’s just the letters,” she explained, “It’s a pun!”

“I thought you said you were bad at French,” Fourgeyrac said appreciatively.

“Les Amis de l’ABC,” Enjolras repeated, rolling it over on his tongue. “I like that, it has a ncie ring to it.”

“All in favor?” Comebeferre asked. Everyone raised their hands. “Les Amis it is then. Thank you, Éponine.”

She smiled. “My pleasure.” Two days in, and she was part of something already. She had a feeling she was going to like it here.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all like it. The next part will be up as soon as I can type it, it's already written, it's just going to take a while 'cause school and such.


End file.
